Beloved, you anchor me in the precious recollection of shared creation. Provider of the slippery quickseed which brought forth our two children from time-perceived urgency and certain devotion. Like ship and light we signal and know each other's purpose; know the danger as well as safe harbor conditions. The young souls navigating our bodies through the swells of passion, sharply rolling, speak no words. Yet release as we both call out to God is the splintering of timber sounding among the tumult as the crested wave strikes. Death and fear is dashed upon the rocks of Life in the effort, and the lasting eerie glow of this perpetual stormfront moves past.
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